I cleaned my closet, then I wrote this melodramatic sonnet in the style of Shakespeare. Place hand to brow & read it bombastically if you have ever been pregnant:
Ode to my former waistline
Waistline, forgive me, for I have wronged you,
These days beach towels barely span my body.
Those days you were with me, I ignored you.
I forsook you vainly, and you have forsaken me.
You’ve been expanded by a natural cause
a joyful new family addition
and even before, your small growth, that was
no fault, caused by genetic disposition.
I see so clearly how shapely we once
were. Waistline, buttoning jeans was a snap.
We’ve grown distant, by ten inches, these nine months.
Can’t we work it out & close this surmounting gap.
Find forgiveness for our younger selves, fools,
lost sight of beauty in sizes and diet rules.